ran out of control
by like teen spirit
Summary: But there is no happily ever for them. —CookEffy


**ran out of control**

**"**_now that the light has  
driven me insane  
this fire is blazing  
and i'm still inside_**"**  
―burn [the pretty reckless]

**xxx**

The last time he saw her was almost two years ago.

He remembers where she sat in Fred's shed, spliff hanging from lips he had once felt against his. The way those crystalline eyes glittered as she watched him dance the last time, her head bobbing in time with the beat. His eyes found hers for a second, and she smiled one last time― the last time he ever saw any expression of happiness on her face.

Three years ago, and he still finds himself thinking of the only girl that he ever really did love and how, when shit hit the fan, he wasn't the one she had ended up wanting. In the end, he was just another pawn in the twisted games she enjoyed playing with his head, his heart, his mind.

For her, he had killed.

For him, she had chosen another. His― [deceased, but don't tell Eff]― best friend. No matter that they had next to nothing in common, or that he knew nothing of how she was wired. But best not to speak ill of the dead.

Oh, but for better or for worse, he's still Cook, the complex network of sex, drugs, and the glorious complications that come with it.

**_[ _**_At least, that's what he's been telling himself._**_ ]_**

**xxx**

She's always been one for a grand entrance.

He's known that since the first day of college where she showed up in that shirt that left little to the imagination. The day she tore his friendship with the other boys apart with one stupid list, a game that he had been to blind to see, where he thought he was in control.

But on a cold night in December, without much other warning, he finds her on his doorstep looking as wild and unhinged as he's always remembered her.

"You look good," she finally comments, a break in the silence that hangs heavy between them.

He doesn't speak, just looks at the depiction of destruction that never looked so real. He's always loved her best like this― with her hair blowing out all around her and her eyes glittering with the intensity of a hurricane.

"Eff," is all he manages to say, eyes raking over her form.

She smiles that little unreadable smile, gesturing to the door. "Are you going to let me in?"

After a moment he moves, allow her to slip past him and into the little house he's broken into for the time being. The how-did-you-find-me's and why-are-you-here's can wait, he decides as she slips out of her jacket, revealing next to nothing underneath.

She's still Effy Stonem, with her mantra of nobody breaks my heart and claiming that she was born backwards.

_**[ **But a ghost so familiar is now a stranger in flesh.** ]**_

**xxx**

Morning brings all the unspoken phrases neither of them dared speak last night.

He wonders how she was able to track him down, what with the numerous times that he's been running all around the country, chasing a dream that he himself doesn't know if even exists.

There's a reason she's here― Elizabeth Stonem is nothing if not conniving, each plan thought out to degrees that seemed ridiculous, he found that out on their little road trip to find his father. Every move she makes is carefully thought out― her landing on his doorstep at an unholy hour was no coincidence.

"Why are you here, Eff?" he asks slowly― time has told him that her games are often at the front of her mind.

Slow rings of smoke escape lips he had ravished only short hours before, her head turning slowly to look at him. A sigh before she answers― "I didn't know who else to go to."

So similar to what she had told him years before when she came running to him after bashing in Katie's head with a brick.

Like the fool he was back then, he eventually agrees to take her long with him on his journey to God-knows-where.

"Like fucking Bonnie and Clyde."

_**[ **Like the fool he is, he still loves her.** ]**_

**xxx**

It's fun for a while.

Their games are something neither of them is willing to relinquish, perhaps that's what fueled the passion that had always been between them, igniting the first time they met with the beauty of fireworks and the intensity of a roaring flame.

The two of them destroy everything in their path, running from the cops and drinking until streetlights bleed and edges blur together in a terrifyingly beautiful way, no light or compass, moral or otherwise, to guide them down the back alleys on so many of those long nights. Only an ever-burning intensity of the energy between them, the only thing that kept him going.

From the start, they were doomed to a life together that would only destroy everything around them, _tear this fucking fragile world apart at its seams_.

_**[** At least they'll have __each other's company in hell. **]**_

**xxx**

But eventually, an untended fire will consume everything around it.

Their first fight is almost a month after she's showed up― he's surprised they even managed to go that long.

Glasses are hurtled [on her end] and tables are knocked over [courtesy of the rage he posses]. And in the end, she storms out after screaming something about him having not change [he's not too sure, they've been drinking and doing lines off a family that they'll never look like] and he doesn't bother running after her until she's been gone for almost an hour.

Later on, he'll find her in a phone booth, white knuckles juxtaposed with the heavy black plastic of the receiver.

They'll fuck on the bed of strangers and make up, just like the old days.

_**[ **Because in the end, nothing's changed. Not really.** ]**_

**xxx**

But old habits die hard.

It becomes a constant cycle of drinking and fucking and fighting, then doing more or less of one before continuing on the destructive path that they've laid out for themselves.

He's always looking for something more, just like way back when he wanted her to meet his father, a delusional lad with dreams of how they would live together on the boat and eventually have everything he never had as a child.

Those are dreams as real as holograms, that hold no more substance than smoke and mirrors.

She's here for the game, and they both know that she's locked him in a head-fuck. A game he'll always lose, he's the marionette and she tugs on his heart strings to make him dance as she commands him to, a lost servant to the wiles of a ruler with a heart no warmer than ice, no softer than stone.

Six months and he still knows nothing of how she ended up beside him, breaking and entering houses temporarily abandoned by their owners.

He loves her to death, he realizes.

_**[ **She doesn't feel the same. **]**_

**xxx**

The end was inevitable.

One morning, she's uncharacteristically demure, telling him that she'll be back soon and that she only needs to see if there are any clothing shops that she can nick a few things from before them setting off again. Any resistance dies at the gentle yet burning kiss that she gives him.

Crystalline eyes apologize, but he knows not of why until less than a half hour later.

Sounds of doors shouting and voices alert him, and he knows that he's got about a minute before the owners stroll through the doors and see how badly he and his [he doesn't even know what to call her] trashed the place.

A shirt too big over his head, and where did he leave his sodding belt last night?

Jump out the window just as the new owners come in [stupid stupid _stupid_], and find that _Effy_ is nowhere to be found. Check their [his, really] usual haunts, but he can't find her anywhere.

She's just gone.

_**[** Not like he didn't see this coming. **]**_

**xxx**

Always so _fucking_ sorry.

Over and over he's stomached every single excuse she's ever given for not returning, Freds being the worst of the lot. Over and over, he'll give her everything, even taking her side when she's in the wrong.

Once upon a time, he loved her.

But there is no happily ever for them. Not now, not ever.

So when she shows up on his doorstep nine years after, there's a part of him that wants to _make_ her love him. Oh, for old time's sake, he'll let her back in, fingers twisting in her unruly coffee-colored waves as their lips part and meet.

But come morning light, he'll be the one who's gone.

_**[ **Because in the end, she'll never love him. **]**_

**xxx**


End file.
